Fragile Dreams of a Soul of Glass
by Bluebelle Yuu Tsukiyu
Summary: Canada, Matthew, Matthieu, Matti, he had countless names, but who was he really? France's ex? America's shadow? Britain's forgotten son? No. He didn't want to be any of that anymore. He didn't want to stay in a world where he was nothing more than thin air. However, little did he know how similar another world would be. AU and yet not.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey n.n**

**This is one of my first fanfictions, that is why I really hope that people will like it :) still that doesn't mean that I don't allow critism. I even encourage you to point out my mistakes. I don't have a beta-reader so... yeah n.n just enjoy reading it :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia Q.Q**

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**How those cold eyes closed**

_"__People only see what they want to see and only hear what they want to hear."_

_By: Unknown_

**I want to die**

How many times has he had that thought?

**Kill me … please.**

The silent one. He who was never noticed.  
Begging, begging for someone to stop his life. He wanted to cease, to stop existing.  
Petting his polar bear with a trembling hand, a chill run down his spine.

"Who are you?"

One would expect him to get used to it, but it still hurt.  
His throat felt sore, his eyes were swollen and his heart aching.

"I'm your owner."

Tears were forming in his eyes, voice cracking.  
Touching his neck, his long cold fingers sled across a deep scar.

**Why can't I die?**

Taking the kitchen knife and watching himself leading it to his throat he whispered with his silent voice.

**Please …. have mercy**.

He wanted to die that badly, that badly that he tried to kill himself several times. His whole body was covered in scars …. Suicidal attempts. He closed his eyes and quickly cut his neck.

**Drip**

Blood … red. Everywhere was blood.  
Slowly he fell to the ground with a quit thump. His blood was flowing like mad, but he still wouldn't die.  
Opening his eyes, he watched his, mirror image looking back at him with empty orbs.

**Stop it. Stop it! Stopit!**

Frustrated he grasped his head, shacking badly.

**No … no, no, no, no, No! Don't.**

The fragile Canadian gripped in fear, coughed up blood. Surrounded by the eternal darkness he lay there, left by humanity. He was disappointed, disappointed in his brother, disappointed in his papa disappointed in his dad … disappointed in humanity.

**It hurts. I'm scared.**

Touching his fresh wound he flinched, vision wavering for a moment. He stood up walking past the mirror straight to the bathroom. Staring at the ugly scar on his throat, he closed his eyes and slowly wrapped up his wound with bandages. Water was making its way to the strawberry blonde's hands.

**Why …. Why won't it get off?**

Visible blood has already disappeared but still he wouldn't stop washing his hands. He felt dirty, betrayed, ignored, misunderstood … broken.

**Tap**

Vision slowly starting to blurry, his head started throbbing.

**Tap**

The air was getting colder by every second that passed.

"Someone's here for you."

A polar bear, Kumajirou suddenly appeared at the door, just to see his owner fall to the ground. However, that wasn't the problem; the real problem had yet to enter the room.

"Matt!"

His brother's voice echoed through the empty halls of his house. His _Oh_ so heroic brother came to visit _him_, _him_ of all people, in the middle of the night.

**No, don't look at me.**

"Oh my god. Ohmygod! What should I do? Wha-."

Walking back and forth in frustration, the hyperventilating American was suddenly gripped by Matthieu.  
The Canadian looked up at his brother with pleading eyes, trying to calm him down. Failing miserably.

"I know now!"

Picking up his baby brother, the shocked blonde went to one of the many bedrooms. Blood was still splattered across the floor, making it hard not to just turn around and go. Suppressing the urge to vomit, Alfred put Matthieu into his bed. The hurt Canadian pulled up his covers so that his big brother couldn't see his blood trenched bandages.

**Why is he here? He shouldn't be here…. He was never since.. back then. **

"Mattie… What the hell... were you doing?"

Al who was still paralyzed by all means, tried to swallow everything that happened. His mind went blank for a few moments.

**Go away**

Collecting all of his courage, the strawberry blonde spoke up for the second time this day.

"Al … I want to be alone, please leave."

Meanwhile the American snapped out of his trance like state and watched his brother in horror.

"Mattie, how could I possibly lea-."

"No! … No, don't give me that hero thing. I-I'm not really in the mood right now."

Trying not to look into the others beautiful sky blue eyes, he hid his own unique blue purple-ish orbs, to afraid to see the hurt expression on his family member's face.

"But-"

"No buts!... Kuma please lead Al to the entrance."

"Matt, you can't do this with me."

His face falling, Alfred was pushed away by the fluffy polar bear.

**I'm so sorry Al. Please forgive me.**

The Canadian's eyes would be watering by now if he'd still have the tears to cry, but he couldn't. Lying there drown by self-hatred, he fell asleep.

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"Stop making such a fuss, you bleeding git!"

"But Iggy, he, he tried to _kill _himself."

Slowly blinking the mentioned person tried to sort out his thoughts.

"I'm not blind you wanker!"

"Shush! He's waking up."

With a bright smile, the American made his way to the waking person.

"Hey Matt! How're you feelin'?"

Another male person made his presence notably.

"Can't you wait for a bloody moment?! Let him regain his senses."

"You know? We're really lucky that your weird pet bear let us in."

Giving the said polar bear a quick glare, Matthieu sat up and looked at his so called 'family' with an angry expression. Why were they here? Now, now when it's way too late. Why weren't they here when he needed them the most? A voice full of anger and hatred filled the now clean room, causing the air temperature to drop.

"Why are you here?"

Just standing there with wide-open eyes, the Englishman was stunned by the unexpected venomous voice of his son. Never had he heard him spat words like that.

The other one dared to answer his brother's question.

"Mattie… we're here to… help you."

"Why would _you_ want to help _me_? You always forget that I even exist. Why the sudden change of mind?"

Now even the thick-skinned American was struck by those forceful words. Never had he expected his brother to ever raise his words against him. Has he really gone too far?

"I-I… We-"

"Please go if you're just here for nothing."

Gaining back his ability to move the Brit took a cup of tea that had been standing on a little table, shoving it into the hands of his 'son'.

"That's not true. We are here to help you. Now drink, it'll do good."

Hesitantly following his 'father's' orders he drank up, putting the steaming cup up to his beautiful red pink-ish lips.  
Steadily a bright white light filled the vision of the North American country.

"I'm sorry lad"

That were the last words he heard before he blacked out.

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**This is the first chapter n.n it's only an introduction, kind of. Well, I do have a few chapters typed down. There will be a few updates soon, but I haven't continued this one for a while now...**

**See you next time anyways :)**

**Bluebelle ;3**


	2. How he met this lonely Soul

**Hii n.n**

**Here is the second chapter :D Thanks for the follos and reviews! It made me really happy n.n Please have fun reading :)**

**Review replies:**

**FragrantAlmond: I am happy that the fic seems good enough to make someone feel something :D I will continue n.n I have a few chapters already typed ;3 Mattie will have to suffer some more though D:**

**Philomenia28: The quotes I put on the top of the fics are more like loose implies to the chapter n.n I don't mean people in general. **

**About the description n.n'' I wrote this a few years ago. I did try to add some things, but they sounded to wrong and I just let the chapter be. It felt complete the way it was :D I will try to be more precise in the future chapters though :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

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**How he met this lonely soul**

_"__Not even with all the money in the world, one must be happy."_

_By: Unknown_

It was a beautiful sunny day in France when a young man walked through a beautiful flower garden. His golden hair was loosely tied back by a blue ribbon matching his gorgeous ocean blue eyes and though he was wearing plain clothes, he had a feeling of elegance on him.  
Looking around and seeing a lone flower, he picked it up, bringing it to his flawless face.

The pure white rose smelled sweet like sugar. Smiling to himself, he started walking again.

"Mr. Bonnefoy!"

Someone called out, disturbing the peaceful silence.

Frowning the said man sighed, walking towards the source of noise.

_'__What a pain. It just got soothing.'_

As the man came nearer, the voice called out once again.

"Mr. Bonnefoy! There you are. Mrs. Héderváry finished making your breakfast."

A young girl was standing at the door smiling. Her long brown hair was tied into two pigtails by red ribbons and the blue dress she was wearing fitted her perfectly.

"I'll be there in a second. You may leave."

Nodding the tanned girl made her way back inside.

After taking a last glance at the garden, the gold blonde followed his maid.

Pancakes, fruits, berries, milk, and a lot more delicious looking food filled the huge table that stood in the middle of a big dining room. There were a few flowers here and there that made it look more comfortable, but something still gave off a very empty feeling.

"It looks great Elizaveta. Please thank Michelle for me that she brought me here."

Bowing the addressed cook made her way out of the dining room. As the female servant left, the French man let his eyelids drop and started to eat. His mind was wandering far off to a very disturbing memory. It all felt so wrong. He was sitting here, eating... living and he, he wasn't here with him.

After finishing his breakfast, he left the room walking past a lot of paintings, doors, plants and antiques.  
Finally, after many steps the slender man came to halt. Opening the door in front of him, he stepped in. Colours, brushes, sponges and many paintings were scattered across the room. Beautiful curtains hung down and high windows let the warm sunrays fill the room with light. Nevertheless, something was off in this mansion. Even though everything was filled with something to the last corner it was empty. It looked like someone was desperately trying to hide something behind all those stuff.

Taking some colours and brushes, the mentioned man sat down, an unfinished painting in front of him. A painting of the stunning flower garden this morning, showing a lone white rose in the middle of many red roses.  
After painting for what felt like hours, quiet knocks disturbed the choking silence. It seemed to happen a lot these days.

"Mr. Bonnefoy? Mr. Carriedo came to visit you."

The same tanned made from before called out.

Answering the gold blonde stood up and walked to the door, just to get hit by it.

"¡Hola François! I came to visit you!... Huh? François where are you?"

A loud happy voice rang through the artist's room. Slamming shut the door, François walked up to his visitor, rubbing his now red nose.

"Bonjour mon ami. What brings you here?"

If one would listen, he could hear the strain behind those words.

"Ah! There you are! I just wanted to visit you."

The obviously 'Spaniards' face lit up as he chatted happily. Leading his tanned friend to the garden while talking a bit, the French man asked his maid to bring some food although he had just eaten.

"You've been taking care of this garden pretty well! You must really like it."

Smelling at the daisies, green eyes brightened up more, if even possible.

"I don't just like it. I'm in love with it!"

Unexpectedly, hands made their way to the Frenchman's shoulders turning him so that emerald eyes could stare into the ocean blue ones, keeping that happy face he always wore and that nice voice he always used.

"You can't be like this forever. Let go! Don't hold on thinks you can't change anymore."

Sighing the gold blonde replied not hiding his sadness anymore. He knew that he couldn't hide the fact he wasn't okay anymore.

"Is that why you came to visit? I should have known…"

"You're hopeless François. You know. No one can change what happened. All you can do is move on. Lovino and I will celebrate our 1st aniversario next week. I came to invite you. We will be at my place. I hope you'll find the time to visit me y mí amor."

Pushing away the two tanned hands François turned around and walked to a chair under a cherry tree. It looked very elegant with all the curls in white. Next to it a fitting table - also in white to be certain.  
Pastries were embellishing the already beautiful sight. Biscuits, cakes, crêpes … wait. Crêpes? Was that even a pastry? Never mind. So, there were also drinks like water and wine. The cook must be very exhausted after making all this food and the maid too bringing all the plates from the kitchen to the garden. It didn't really make the void feeling go away, but it still helped hiding it. This mansion was dead. Moreover, in many opinions it was dead beyond repair, just like its hollow owner.  
Back to the two man. Following the gold blonde and sitting down as well, Antonio took a biscuit.

"You're cook improved a lot after the last time!"

Antonio spoke once again as if nothing happened. François took a sip of his wine and looked pleased by his cook's abilities as well, as he ate a piece of cake. The two of them sat there for hours, chatting away about random topics and avoiding each others gazes.  
It was already dusk as the sun begun to set. The scenery was breathtaking. Red, orange, yellow to blue and many other colours were prettifying the sky. Stars started to glow and the big silver moon was at its fullest. Sun slowly fading behind the horizon, the dark blue night sky took over. Unusual many stars were decorating it, brightening the earth beneath them. It all seemed so surreal.

"Oh, how the time flows. It's already evening. We should head inside."

Nodding the Spaniard followed his friend inside, in silence. Both of them sat on the couch that was placed in the extraordinary big living room, uncomfortably fidgeting beneath the awkward atmosphere. They just couldn't find the right words anymore.  
Not standing this sight anymore Michelle opened the door – with force, that's to be said. Both of the men looked up with shocked expressions, making the poor girl embarrassed.

"Err … Food! Miss Héderváry made you something to eat!"

Inventing some stupid lie, the female brunette bowed her head, letting one of her ribbons drop in process. Laughter filled the once silent room, making the Maid blush.

"Thank you Michelle, for informing us."

Suppressing the urge to laugh, the French man stood up wanting to pick the fallen ribbon, but his fellow friend was faster.

"Here all done."

After tying back the ribbon into Michelle's hair, the tanned man smiled brightly.

"No flirting with my soubrette."

Francis said with a sing-sang voice, not fully meaning what he said and just wanting to stay polite.  
Excusing herself Michelle left the room, head red from embarrassment. She quickly ran to the kitchen. Both men smiled, thinking the same thing.

"Miss Héderváry… I'm so sorry! They were just that… awkward and then I talked… and… I'm so sorry!"

Panting from the sprint, a certain maid tried to explain what happened.

"Shh. Calm down and then tell me. It's not like I'm going to eat such a cute little girl."

The Hungarian cook tried to soothe the poor girl no older than eight, smiling at her. Slowly the said girl took a deep breath settling herself.

"I lied. I lied to Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Carriedo. I told them a lie straight to their faces… hic."

After blurting out the truth, Michelle started to cry. She felt horrible having lied to the one who gave her everything. It was too much for an eight-year-old child.

"Hey. It's alright."

The elder woman took the little kid into an embrace. Even though she wasn't her mother, she still had the urge to take care of this child.

"You know. There are times in life you have to lie. In addition, you didn't lie because of selfish reasons. You wanted to make Mr. Bonnefoy feel happy. Am I right?"

Patting Michelle's head, Mrs. Héderváry let go, waiting for an answer.

"Yes. But-"

"No buts! Come let's start you can go and lay the table. Understood? And a 'no' is not accepted."

Stemming her fists to her sides, the cook smiled brightly at the little maid, who nodded and took off to do her task.

"I can still recall the time that I was her age…"

Sighing Elizaveta took off as well, to cook. She just couldn't blame this kid. After all she and François were the ones who raised her, but the thought of this Carriedo made her mind boil with rage. This man didn't deserve her little angel's attention.  
As Elizaveta finished preparing the food, she took the plates and brought the food to her master herself.  
The dining room was dimly lit with candle light; the red tablecloth reflected the yellow light making the faces of the two men shine orange.  
What was Michelle thinking, making a romantic mood like that?

As the cook made her way to the table, Mr. Carriedo's face saddened, but the expression was quickly replaced by his usual happy-go-lucky smile.

"Long time no see, Eliza. How are you?"

He tried to strike up a conversation, looking into the woman's grass green eyes, but it didn't go that well. The atmosphere between those two stayed gloomy, if not it tensed even more.

"I am feeling quiet well. Thank you for asking."

She answered stiffly, wanting to leave this room as soon as possible. And putting the plates down, she did as she wanted.

"She still hasn't forgiven me, now has she?"

Antonio asked no one in particular, facing the door the said woman left to.

Michelle had been standing in the far corner of the room the whole time, confused by the scene in front of her.

Why was the normally talkative Hungarian so silent and stiff?

**_Crash!_**

The sound of glass and porcelain breaking filled the quiet halls of the mansion. Something has happened but what?  
Without thinking, the young maid ran straight to the kitchen, having a bad feeling about this.

"Mrs. Héderváry?"

She asked quietly, not sure what to say. No one answered and no one could be seen.

"Mrs. Héderváry?!"

This time someone replied, but it was more like a cry for help.

"Michelle! Don't let François enter this room at any means!"

Elizaveta stood up, but she wasn't the only person in the room. A young boy with wavy strawberry blonde hair was placed on the cook's back, while a … polar bear? Stood next to her stained with blood. Fresh blood. Then it struck Michelle. The young boy on Elizaveta's back was heavily injured! Cuts and bruises were all over his porcelain skin. She wanted to vomit. Her stomach was doing weird flip-flops and her eyes were failing her. She tried to look away, but she couldn't.  
Elizaveta's eyes widened as she looked at Michelle, no, she was looking behind her. The little girl tentatively turned around only to see a broken man standing right there. It was no other than her master.

"Matthew?"


	3. How those different lives changed

**Hey everyone :D**

**Here is the third chapter n.n Thank you for the reviews and follows! Really, I am grateful TT^TT!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

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**How those different lives changed**

_"__Trust is an oasis in the heart, which is never reached from the caravan of thoughts."_

_From: Ephraim Kishon_

François stood there, face unreadable and hands trembling. His mind went blank, not sure what to think of, his maid on the brink to faint.  
Antonio eyed his friend with worry and was quick to make a decision. He took François 's wrist and pulled him out of the kitchen, scared that he would have a mental breakdown.

"Michelle?"

The Hungarian looked at the child afraid that she would faint right there right now.

"Michelle look at me." Her gaze hardened. "Take the polar bear and go to your room. I'll call Belle. She'll help you take care of it."

The said girl swiftly picked up the bear and ran out of the room, hugging it close to her body. She didn't care that she was staining her expensive clothes with blood.  
Once she was gone, Elizaveta walked out of the kitchen straight to the bathroom. Her thoughts were racing through her mind making her dizzy, but she couldn't let herself go crazy. One has to keep a cool head and that one would be her.  
Putting down the uncalled visitor, Elizaveta started cleaning him. As she slowly pulled off the hoody more scars were revealed. It was daunting, all of this blood, the shallow breaths even the fact he was here. This boy… this boy shouldn't be here in the first place. Was god playing a prank on them?

_'__Why? Why had Mr. Bonnefoy that look on his face? His, his eyes seemed so hollow!'_

Michelle sat on her bed, firmly clutching the little polar bear. She was frightened. She was frightened and scared. She was visibly trembling and it seemed like just a little nudge could shatter her at the moment. Suddenly a faint knocking could be heard.

"Michelle? It's me Belle! I'll open the door now."

A young woman with wavy sunflower blonde hair stepped in. Her eyes were filled with concern as she examined the little quivering girl in front of her. Walking up to that girl and sitting down, she put a hand on her shoulder. It was saddening her that such a young child had to see something gruesome like that.  
Elizaveta had told her what happened and it was quite shocking to hear. Poor François must go through a rough time there, seeing his long lost sweet angel covered in injuries all that sudden.  
As she moved her hand to the polar bear, Belle stood up with it in her arms.

"Come let's get all that blood off you!"

Michelle sat there glued to the spot, she wasn't prepared for that sudden outburst, but she should have known better than that, Belle was a very fast woman after all.

"Are you coming or not?"

Belle was already standing at the entrance, looking back at her, the little bear dangling from her arms. Playing happy was all she could do to cheer up the messed up family.

"Here all done."

Elizaveta smiled proudly at her piece of work. Matthieu was lying in one of François's spare rooms dressed in his old clothes. His skin was cleansed from all the ugly sticky liquid and his hair now showed its real splendor, shimmering beautifully in the moonlight.  
She left the boy to rest for the night and took off to her own chamber. As she leaned against the wall, trying to cool down a bit, someone entered the room, but Elizaveta didn't turn around. She already knew who stood at the door and wasn't very pleased with it.  
Moments passed before one dared to break the silence.

"You did a great work there! He's all clean."

A by all appearances cheery voice filled the room with noise.  
She did not answer. She didn't want to answer. Not to this man, not to the man who made her life a living hell. Yeah, no one would believe her, but she knew what she saw and nobody could change her stubborn mind. Again they stood there in silence.

"Do you still hate me?"

There it was. That voice, that voice that made anyone feel guilty even though they weren't. It was driving her crazy. Why wouldn't he let her alone? It was all she wished for. She couldn't take much more. First that boy and now him.  
A warm hand griped Elizaveta's shoulder, slowly turning her around.  
Hot tears were running down her soft cheeks. The hand flinched away, betraying his owner's feelings. He was shocked. Never did he want to hurt someone this much. It wasn't his intention to do what he had done and now. He stood there, not able to atone it.

"I'm sorry."

Antonio whispered into her ears as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

_"__Francis! I- I didn't mean it like that. I-I couldn't wa-watch you getting h-hur-."_

_"__No Canada. You don't have to lie anymore. I should have known you don't trust me. I was such an idiot to not see it for such a long time. But I am truly thankful that you showed me life."_

_He felt a bang in his heart. It was as if someone was ripping it into small pieces and then smashing it all over again. No, it can't be true. Everything, everything he lived for was just slipping from his bare hands right in front of him. Still he could not move. His mind screamed for him to do something, at least talk, but his body wouldn't obey. The hurt expression on the Frenchman's face made him frantic. He felt so guilty. Nothing he had lived through could be compared to this moment. Every single word the man in front of him said made him wish he never existed. It hurt, it hurt so much, but he couldn't do one thing.  
The gold blond turned around, not facing the Canadian anymore._

_"__Farewell."_

_Burning tears threatened to flow over his pale skin, a lump was forming inside his throat and he had goose bumps all over his body. Quiet whispers left his dry mouth just as the tears began to flood out of his eyes._

_"__Don't leave me."_

"Don't leave me."

A shallow voice echoed through the dark empty room. Its sound made ones heart break. It was so full of agony and sorrow… It just sounded so… broken.  
The owner of this voice slowly rose from his lying position letting the covering blankets slip off his body. Soon enough he regretted it as the cold air hit his bare skin, leaving a burning sensation.  
Where was he?  
Looking around him, he found nothing he was familiar with until, his eyes spotted a certain scenery through the windows: A flower garden.  
But that couldn't be true. He must still be dreaming. After all the only one who possessed such a big flower garden was _him_. Moreover, why would _he _of all people take him to his home?  
Reaching out to the nightstand beside him, he put on his glasses. He was hoping for that to be some kind of mistake, but it just ensured him even more than before. He was in France's place. Though, something about this mansion emitted an eerie vibe. What had happened after all this years he didn't come to visit? France was never the type of person who liked vacant locations; he was more the romantic womanizer. He liked it cuddly and warm, there was always something graceful around the places he was to. But this? This was just plain creepy.  
Was England messing with his mind again? Or was he really dead now? Did heavens finally answer his prayers?  
Suddenly realizing that his little pet bear wasn't with him, he jerked up casting off the blanket in process again. A lot of bandages that were carefully wrapped around almost every inch of his body were revealed. Matthieu didn't seem to notice, because he walked straight to the exit, leaving behind the warm bed. He was confused, scared even intimidated by the dark halls of that man's mansion. Where was Kumajirou? Where was his little baby bear?  
Walking down the wide corridors, nothing but darkness greeted him. He didn't expect anything different. It has always been like that. His best friends: Loneliness and grief. And with that came darkness of course.

"I'm sorry."

He heard someone whisper quietly. It was a voice he was familiar with, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was used in a way, the man he knew that voice belonged to, never spoke, or at least he never heard him speaking like that.  
Slowly tiptoeing to the source of sound, he came across an open door, where light dimly shined through the small gap. Two shadows danced on the floor, giving away how many persons were present in the room.  
Matthieu usually wasn't the one to eavesdrop but this was an emergency. His only loyal friend was missing and he had to find him as fast as possible.  
He leaned forward to snitch a short glimpse of the inside. A man and a woman were standing in the middle of the chamber, embracing each other.  
No… that were, that were Hungary and Spain! Since when did they have a relationship like that?  
Matthieu's eyes widened as he realized who resided in this room, but not too soon, his expression changed to a much more desolated one. He remembered the way how things had been back then. It was before he got into this wretched shape, before… before they took his life away from him.

"Someone's there!"

The brunette called out with a surprised voice, shaking Matthieu awake from his thoughts. His eyes shot open in an instant and his body was shaking from fear. No one ever noticed him. So why now? He knew something was off with this place, but he had t o find out what exactly.  
Before he could even think of moving, a hand firmly gripped his shoulder.  
Flinching slightly from the harsh touch, he casted his sight downwards, not able to look into the eyes of the person in front of him.  
His heart was going crazy and his hands started to sweat as he slowly registered what mess he had gotten himself into. First, he ignored his one and only twin brother for centuries as well as his dad, than he slowly started to cut ties with the other nations and on the top of that, he actually killed himself a hundred times already if not more. A normal human would have been dead a long time ago. And now… and now he was standing here, all bandaged up, in what he thought was France's mansion, eavesdropping on a private conversation of Spain and Hungary and withering beneath the strong hold of one of the two.

"You are that Matthew Niño. Am I right?"

A relatively cheery voice asked. It made it obvious that the one standing in front of him was Spain, holding onto him. At first, he didn't register that Spain was talking to him; he just stood there cowering in fear and thinking of the events that occurred.

"Oh, but of course you must be hungry! You can answer me after you ate a proper meal."

Moving his hand away from the Canadians shoulders, Spain took hold of his wrist, pulling him along, away from the woman in that room he had been in. Though Spain was talking with a cheery voice Canada knew that he was all but happy. Usually his eyes were sparkling with excitement, but that point was missing.  
Both men were rushing down the rather dark hallways of this mansion in silence, giving them the opportunity to think.  
This wasn't right! All off it is just a bad joke! England must have given him some poison or something that made him see things! Spain should be the happy-go-lucky airhead and Hungary a strong woman, who never cried.  
As they were passing a quiet big door, Matthieu abruptly came to halt, eyeing it with concern. A train of feelings was pouring down on him, like a really bad rainstorm.

**Lup-dub**

His heart was beating louder in his chest every second that passed.

**Lup-dub**

His hands slowly rose, wanting to open the door.

**Lup-dub**

"Matthew don't open that door!"

Spain screamed, but he couldn't hear him. His heartbeat was drowning out every other sound. It was like the ticking off the clock.

**Lup-dub**

His hands were touching the handle now, threatening to pull it down. Spain once again called out something he couldn't make out.

**Lup-dub**

He pulled down the handle with a click and the door slowly opened, but what he saw there was making his heart stop dead instead of going faster. There was… a picture of his name engraved to a tombstone.

_Matthew Williams_


	4. How he found those sad thoughts

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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**How he found those sad thoughts**

_„__The most important requirement for satisfaction is that the man wants to be what he is." _

_From: Erasmus von Rotterdam_

Matthieu stood there rooted to the spot, deeply struck by the discovery he made. His human name engraved to a stone on a picture that was glued to a wall in France's room.  
The big silver moon filled it with faint light, making this room look haunted. It was downright creepy, sending chills down ones spine. If you ever visited a haunted mansion, I mean a real one, you would know what I mean.  
Suddenly Matthieu's already weak stomach began to move on its own accord, giving him the urge to vomit. Sure, he wanted to die, but he never wanted to see it happen. No, he was too frightened to look at what he was actually doing to the ones who were once close to him. He knew that he was going to break their hearts, but on the other hand, they never even knew he existed. It was one of the reasons that he wanted to leave this place. And now? And now he was standing here looking at what he had always yearned for… Death.  
Nevertheless, it didn't feel right! It was so alien to him. How could he stand here, but at the same time be buried beneath the dirty earth of a cemetery? It didn't make any sense at all! Or was that Matthew Williams on the tombstone another one? Was it all a very realistic dream? If he is going to wake up everything will be definitely back to as it was before, was it?  
He couldn't think clearly anymore. Every attempt to solve this riddle ended up with even more questions to answer and a bigger headache to handle. Why would someone do such a thing? Why would someone send him to a place like that?  
Suddenly Spain pulled him away and closed the door with almost no sound. He didn't look very pleased with the actions of the young Canadian, but he wasn't mad either. How could he be mad at him for wanting to see someone he hadn't seen in ages. It was just natural that something like this would happen. However, was this really the boy he thought he was? Or was he just a look-alike? For all he knew the strawberry blonde acted like the real one and this is what he was going to stick with.

"Trespassing is no good. You should let him sleep for a while."

Spain figured that his little charge knew whom this room belonged to. However, the person in this room wasn't yet ready to face his past. After eight years of denial even though he knew he was gone, it was just natural he would be shaken. At least he didn't collapse when he saw him covered in this pure red liquid. Still, it took a while to steady him again and he wouldn't let his friend get a mental breakdown here, just because he was distracted.  
Pushing Matthieu away from the door, the Spaniard walked to the kitchen. His body was slightly trembling from the uncertainty. He wasn't sure how he could handle all of this.  
The former wife of his friend just had just broken down on him, his other friend was struck hard by the sudden appearance of this Matthieu Niño and the said boy wasn't very well too, at least it seemed that way. He hasn't spoken to him since he woke up so he couldn't tell if he was all right or not, but he just couldn't strike up a conversation with him. It was strange, because normally he could talk to anyone without a second thought, about anything he could come up with. But this boy… this boy was just so different. He had an air around him that screamed that he wasn't ordinary. It was so out of place, just like everything in this mansion. However, maybe it was just him imagining.  
As both of the men arrived in the kitchen, Spain crammed through the refrigerator, he was searching for some food.  
Matthieu on the other hand was sat down on the chair beside the table, looking into thin air. His mind was failing him, giving the poor boy a worse headache than before. He wanted to know what this was all about, but at the same time, he didn't. Maybe he should just stick with how things were right now, at least until there is an opportunity for him to grasp the truth.

"Here, I hope you like churros."

Spain said as he put down a basket full of that Spanish pastry. He eyed the Canadian with concern as that said boy picked up one of the biscuits in front of him. Slowly he moved it to his tender lips, pushing aside his previous thoughts.  
Biting down, he let himself be carried away by the taste of it. He knew this taste very well, after all his… 'Papa' and Spain were good friends.  
It brought back bad memories, eating those churros in front of Spain. A lump made itself felt in Matthieu's throat making it harder to swallow with every moment that passed, eventually the constant swallowing made something in his head snap.

**Drip**

A lone tear made its way out of the strawberry blondes eyes, but not too soon others followed.

**Drop**

As the salty liquid freely flowed out, the silent Canadian began to sob out everything he had locked up for all this years. He had lost everything.

**Drip**

His family.

**Drop**

His friends.

**Drip**

… his one and only love.

**Drop**

The Spaniard watched the boy in front of him with confusion and sorrow. This was definitely the worst day he ever had.  
Why did his present make everyone cry? Has he failed to become a good person? After all, all he wanted was to become a better man. He knew he wasn't the nicest person back then, but what has he done wrong that everyone started crying at his appearance? Did he hurt them?  
Shaking himself back to reality, the tanned man spoke up with his permanent happy voice, trying to lighten the mood. Still there was a sad undertone that could be heard.

"Are my churros that bad?"

The tears had stopped steaming down the cheeks of the North American country in the interim.  
He looked up at the man in front of him, who gave him a warm but sad smile. His head must have been as red as a tomato, because he felt embarrassed to no end. It's not just that has he cried like a little baby, no he has also insulted the person who has been nice to him. He was absolutely no good.

"Oh! I haven't told you who I am yet! Sorry Niño. My name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. You can just call me Antonio. Nice to meet you."

Matthieu stopped dead as if this Antonio guy said something wrong. Yeah of course, to the personification of Canada it sounded pretty weird for a fellow country to introduce himself with his human name. But that didn't mean he wasn't a country, did it? Even so, the Spain look-alike had called him Matthew the whole time, neither Canada nor Matthieu.  
However it wasn't very polite to ignore someone, so he answered silently, using the name that was engraved on the tombstone.

"My name is Matthew Williams. The pleasure is all mine."

He bowed his head lightly, showing that he had respect towards the Spaniard who just looked at him with a wide grin. He put his hand on the top of Matthieus head, patting him reassuringly.

"No need to be so stiff, Niño. I won't eat you."

Antonio knew how shy the pale Canadian could be. Francis had told him his life story after all and who would actually forget such a thing?  
Sanding up, the tanned man walked to the exit. He wanted to leave it at that little conversation, knowing that if he was going to push any further his charge would completely close up.  
People often misjudge him to be obvious and a little dumb, but he could tell how the humans around him felt and he wasn't going to hurt someone on purpose.  
The quiet Canadian understood the little gesture and took the offer to leave. He was relieved that that the Spaniard wasn't going to question him, although he must be really confused about his little outburst.  
Following Antonio through the big halls of the mansion once again, Matthieu watched his surroundings even more precisely. Yes, this was France's mansion for sure, but it wasn't the same one he knew. Antonio just confirmed his concept even more. He had stranded in a different world.

"You should sleep now. There isn't much night left, but still better than nothing. Sleep well, Niño."

Pushing the Canadian into his chamber, the tanned man closed the door without waiting for an answer.  
Inside Canada was already sitting on his bed. He actually didn't get what he wanted… Kumajirou. He wanted his little polar bear back for Christ's sake! …still he couldn't help but be at ease. Yeah, maybe things seemed so very off and empty, nonetheless he knew he could trust those people.  
As he threw himself back, something pretty hard hit his head. Once again standing up, he rummaged through the bed until his fingertips seemed to touch what has caused the impact. Carefully pulling out that certain something, he wondered what it could be. Than it was there, lying in his palms… A book, better said a diary. Slowly he turned it around, wanting to know who it belonged to, but right after he saw the name he wished he had never looked for it in first place. The name written on this diary was once again.

_Matthew Williams_


End file.
